


Brothers Are All You Need

by Sherlock1110, sherlockian4evr



Series: Sherlock and Mycroft Fluff [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Established Mystrade, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Holmes Brothers, M/M, Teen Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 01:59:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5767027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockian4evr/pseuds/sherlockian4evr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt:</p><p>Emphasis on teen years! When Mycroft wasn't actually all that powerful (yet) and Sherlock was still in school (or in his early years of uni) and super bonus points if there was that one awkward summer where Sherlock rebelled by living with Mycroft (who lived down the street from their parents)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brothers Are All You Need

“Sherlock you can't just phone me up to tell me your tutors are idiots.”

“Why can't I?”

“Because they aren't idiots, they all graduated from Oxford or Cambridge, much like myself and much like you in a few years.”

“A piece of paper doesn't equate to intelligence. It only means they learned to play the game.”

Mycroft snorted. “Even you must agree, that in itself indicates a level of intelligence above the average.”

“None of them know the slightest bit about their specialist subjects.”

“Oh, Sherlock. You know I can understand their trepidation with wanting you in their classroom. Do you speak to them all like this?”

“Yes, you never complained.”

“Perhaps I should have, if only to accustom you to the concept. Please, baby brother, try to play nice. Just a few more years and you'll be done with them.”

“But what do I do for the next week? There's a whole 7 days before summer.”

“You've managed the last 51 weeks, Sherlock.”

“Yes, but they weren't all here. How can I cope with 3 more years if I can't cope with one more week?”

“It's called life, Sherlock!” Mycroft shook his head, he hadn't meant to snap. Only Sherlock could do that to him. “Look, 'Lock. I'll make you a deal. If you can manage one more week without sending your tutors into fits of hysteria, you may spend the summer with me.”

“What about Mummy?” Sherlock sounded dubious.

“Does she even notice when you're at home?”

“Thanks,” he snapped.

“That's not what I meant, Sherlock and you know it.”

“She notices when I catch something on fire, at any rate.”

“Oh, 'Lock. Please, just make it one more week. I'm telling you, you can stay with me. I'll take care of everything.”

“Promise, Myc?” It suddenly wasn't the petulant teenager talking, but Mycroft's precious baby brother.

“Of course, I do.”

“Ok. I won't get into any trouble.”

“Is that what I'll hear when I phone up the headmaster the day before the end of term?”

“That's what you'll hear if you promise to collect me yourself and not send a car.”

Mycroft barked a laugh. “Very well, baby brother. I shall arrive in person to collect you. Anything else?”

“Don't tell Mummy.”

“What do you mean don't tell her?”

“An experiment. If she phones you within a few hours of school finishing wondering where I am then she does notice me.”

“Sherlock...”

“Please, Myc?”

Mycroft sighed. “Ok, 'Lock. But I'll have to tell her before she calls the police.”

“I doubt she would, I bet she'd be happy-” Sherlock cut off at the sound of the tone in the background.

“Shouldn't you be getting to class?”

“Nope.”

“Sherlock…” Mycroft's tone was threatening.

“I've got a free period.”

“No you don't. Get going.”

The phone in Mycroft's hand went silent without so much as a goodbye first. He couldn't say he was surprised. Sherlock had grown ruder and, well, downright obnoxious since he had gotten older.

On Friday afternoon, Sherlock stropped from his building, his case banging along on the floor behind him.

“Finally,” he grumbled as he climbed into the passenger side.

“Good term, Sherlock?” Mycroft asked sarcastically.

The younger brother's reply was equally sarcastic. “Of course, brother-mine.”

Sherlock glanced at his watch. “The clock is running. Would you care to wager how long it will take before Mummy notices my absence?”

“That's not the sort of thing you should be joking about Sherlock.”

“Why not? We're experimenting anyway, I might as well make a bit of extra cash on it.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes, then decided to change the subject. “Speaking of experiments, I've set up a small lab for you in the third bedroom. Nothing elaborate, mind, but it should provide you with some diversion.”

“Diversion from what?”

“From destroying my house.”

Sherlock laughed. “Ah, Mycie, don't be a spoilsport.”

“Sherlock!”

“I make no promises, brother dear, but I'll try to keep your house intact.” The teen's eyes glinted mischievously. “I won't have to be nice to your boyfriend, will I?”

“You want to be a detective Sherlock, my boyfriend is in the police I think it would be in your best interest to be nice to him.”

Sherlock scoffed. “As if he'll take notice of me. Besides, he's probably just some sycophant trying to get ahead through you.”

Mycroft slammed on the brakes, bringing the car to a halt.

“Do you want to walk to Mummy's?”

“Obviously not.”

“Then think before you speak, Sherlock. You have no idea what Gregory's like and to let you know, he's moved in.”

“But-”

“Sherlock, I'm more than willing for you to stay at mine, and continue with whatever pointless experiments you want at the same time, but you will not be rude to Gregory and you will not make him feel unwelcome.”

Sherlock crossed his arms and settled into a sulk.

“I'm serious, Sherlock. If you can't agree to those terms, then go ahead and get out now.”

Silence hung in the air for several long moments before he grudgingly agreeing, “Fine.”

Mycroft pulled back into traffic and Sherlock kept stubbornly silently for the rest of the journey.

When they pulled up into Mycroft's drive Sherlock stropped out, pulled his case from the boot and stormed off. Mycroft leant back against the front of his car and sighed.

He felt a great sense of foreboding as he followed his brother into the house. Gregory had insisted on working from home that afternoon and evening to welcome Sherlock. Mycroft had tried warning his boyfriend about his brother's eccentricities, but Gregory had refused to be moved.

When Mycroft walked in it was to find Gregory sat at the kitchen table Sherlock looking over his shoulder at the computer screen.

“It had to be a woman,” Sherlock was saying.

Mycroft froze where he was, glanced back at the car, then at his watch and back to the pair before shaking his head. Sherlock hadn't stormed off from Gregory and he seemed to be paying attention to whatever was on the screen.

“What makes you so sure?”

Sherlock leant forward and pointed to the corner of the screen, muttering something to himself. “That is clearly a stiletto heel. Mummy used to have a pair like it.”

When Mycroft saw the screen, it was a crime scene photograph, one the copper was clearly working on.

Greg leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs out in front of him. “That was... interesting.” He crossed his legs at the ankles and jerked his chin towards the screen. “Go ahead, tell me what else you see.”

Sherlock blurted out everything he could see with just one glance and didn't once mutter anything about incompetence or idiots.

Mycroft stood to the side open-mouthed. He was gobsmacked at the deductions, no, they were easy, he was gobsmacked by the way Gregory just seemed to click with him.

“So therefore,” Sherlock concluded. “The body has been dead at least 3 days and it was definitely the wife.” With that he picked up his case and stomped off upstairs.

The copper looked in the direction Sherlock had disappeared. “So, that's your brother. He's an impressive kid.”

“Please, Gregory, don't let him hear you call him that.” Mycroft walked to Greg's side and bent down to kiss him.

“What, impressive? That's a bit of an understatement to be honest.”

“No,” Mycroft smirked. “Kid.” He turned to the kettle.

“Coffee for me,” Greg said through his chuckles. He sent a quick email off to his boss from what Sherlock had concluded his version of events looked feasible.

Sherlock tossed his bag on the bed in the room he had deduced to be his own, then walked to the room next door to the makeshift lab. Actually, makeshift wasn't the correct word for it. His brother had actually stocked it quite well, complete with microscope.

He collapsed onto one of the stools and sighed. Maybe he was too harsh on Mycroft. He'd got away as soon as he turned 18 and he had thought he'd ditched him, he glanced at his blazer he'd launched when he came in and he'd also gotten his baby brother away. Getting him into boarding school kept him away from home, as much as he despised it there, it was only because they were idiots, not because… well… because of his mother. It was weird he had never seen it before, he resolved to be nicer to Mycroft. Gregory had been a surprise. A pleasant one too, and he seemed to appreciate his abilities rather than telling him to piss off.

His resolution towards Mycroft went right out the window when he was called down to dinner. He wasn't hungry, didn't want to eat and certainly didn't want to participate in mindless chit chat while they ate. He grabbed his headphones from his bag and threw himself back on the bed, closing his eyes.

It seemed like next to no time he was jerked alert by a sharp pinch on his ear. His brother was dragging him from the room and towards the door.

“Myc-”

“You think you're going to get away with not eating here?”

Even as he tried to pull away, Sherlock yelled, “Piss off!” His bid for freedom never got anywhere, though, Mycroft's grip on his ear was too tight.

“Manners, Sherlock,” Mycroft admonished.

Downstairs in the kitchen Greg was standing with his back to the door, pointedly ignoring the indignity that he was certain Sherlock was suffering. Seeing the boy's humiliation would do nothing to endear him to the lad, after all.

Mycroft dragged Sherlock through the kitchen and into the dining room. He pushed his baby brother into his seat.

“You'll stay there for the duration of dinner, you'll eat everything and you will partake in your own part of the conversation whatever it is about.”

“Or what?”

“I'll lock the lab.”

Sherlock frowned and folded his arms as Greg brought through the dishes. When Mycroft turned his back, he reached for his ear and rubbed it. Greg gave him a knowing smile which he didn't immediately object to.

The copper leant down next to Sherlock and, in a voice pitched low enough that only the boy could hear it, muttered, “He's a damned pushy sod, isn't he?”

Sherlock's head, which had been turned the other way, swivelled around and he shared a conspiratorial smile with Greg.

“What are you two up to?” Mycroft questioned as he came back with the remaining dishes.

“Nothing,” they both said together, extremely quickly and extremely guiltily.

Mycroft looked them both up and down, deducing. It only took a moment for him to unravel the truth. “Gregory, really! You shouldn't be encouraging my brother.”

The copper walked to Mycroft's side and kissed him thoroughly. Behind them, Sherlock made an indelicate sound. Mycroft just pointed a finger at him and he fell silent immediately. He could see why Mycroft had had that lab installed now. He had a bargaining chip to make him behave.

“And for the record,” Greg started. “He doesn't need encouragement.”

Sherlock bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing outright. He was starting to think he could actually like this... what was that name again... Geoff, Gavin? He gave a shrug.

“It's Gregory.” Mycroft read his mind and offered a very slight smile.

“Greg.”

Sherlock couldn't retain himself any longer and burst out laughing. Greg responded in kind. Even Mycroft's mouth turned up at the corners. It had been so long since he had heard such a genuine outburst of mirth from his brother rather than a bitter facsimile.

“Any news from Mummy, Mycroft?” Sherlock had managed to regain control of himself and stuffed his mouth full of chips so that he wouldn't be able to talk again for a moment.

Mycroft glanced at his watch. “No, actually.”

Greg looked from one Holmes to the other. “What am I missing?”

“My baby brother has decided on a rather indelicate experiment. One I am more than happy to admit wasn't one I was fully invested in. But seeing as our mother clearly hasn't phoned me to find out where her youngest son is, I think it is pretty well justified.”

The teenager grinned.

Disbelieving, Greg shook his head. “Don't tell me neither of you told your mother that he's staying with us. Just... just don't.”

Mycroft shrugged, more than content to go back to his food. “Okay.”

Greg's eyes flickered back and forth between the two brothers. “Then what?”

“You told us not to tell you,” Sherlock said with a pout.

The copper found it hard not to laugh, but he remembered being that age - his mirth wouldn't be appreciated. He cleared his throat. “I promise, I'm just curious. I don't have my cop hat on.”

“Sherlock and our mother have a… well, an awkward relationship.”

“It's not just me! You're hardly her favourite person.”

Mycroft stared at him for a moment.

“Her favourite person is herself,” the younger brother finished.

Mycroft cocked his head and raised a single eyebrow in silent acknowledgement.

The three of them fell into an awkward silence after that, each of them eating without really tasting the food. Deciding he'd had enough Sherlock just put his fork down and stood up.

“Sherlock, you have half your food left.”

“Very observant, big brother,” he said sarcastically.

Reaching under the table, Greg grabbed his boyfriend’s knee and squeezed as if to say, “Leave it.”

Mycroft didn't so much as blink in acknowledgement, but he did refrain from further comment.

Rather pleased with himself, Sherlock spun on his toe. “You'll be down at 8 Sherlock, for breakfast.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

As soon as Sherlock had disappeared, Greg bent double in silent laughter. Feeling eyes on him, he looked up at Mycroft. “Jesus, but that kid is just like you.” The offended look on Mycroft's face only made the copper laugh, but aloud this time. “Are you sure he's 15 and not a secret twin of yours?”

Mycroft's offended look turned blank for a moment. “He is definitely 15, physically he's 15 at least. Mentally, yes, he could be my twin and emotionally he's a toddler.”

Greg's feet drummed against the floor as he continued to chuckle helplessly. “Ok, ok.” He finally got control of himself. “I grant you, he does have a rather large chip on his shoulder, but there's a lot of potential in him.”

Time seemed to freeze for a moment as Mycroft looked at the gorgeous man beside him. His look of adoration must have been obvious because Greg began to blush.

“You know, I've been the only one to see that. Until now.”

Greg took his boyfriend's hand in his own and turned so his knees brushed against Mycroft's leg. “Like I said, he's so much like you and you're absolutely brilliant. So, how could I not see it? I'd have to be an idiot.”

Mycroft leaned towards the copper, letting his head rest against the other man's shoulder. “Have I told you how much I love you today?”

Greg chuckled. “You just did.” He paused for a moment, wanting to remember this second and then held his finger up but Mycroft had closed his eyes. “Does your brother play the violin?”

“Yes. He can play very well, he just chooses not to.”

“Well, he is now.”

Greg rose and padded quietly to stand at the base of the stairs and listen.

In his room, Sherlock was lost in the music he was creating. It was as if the music opened a door into a world of his own creation, one where he wasn't misunderstood or called a freak. He was so lost in his own little bubble that he didn't notice his bedroom door being pushed open. He was looking out the window as he was playing and Mycroft took Greg's hand pulling him in the room.

The music finally drifted to an end, the last sweet strains seeming to hang in the air for a moment.

“That was beautiful,” Greg complimented the teen.

Sherlock whirled around, caught by surprise.

Mycroft was expecting an explosion of comments about how he dare not enter his room and gritted his teeth in preparation but it didn't come Sherlock smiled almost nervously. He paced to his brother and handed him his violin.

Mycroft looked at his brother in confusion as he took the violin - Sherlock hadn't allowed anyone else to touch it in at least two years.

“I know you can play, Mycroft.”

The older Holmes frowned. “No, I don't. Um… how do you know?”

Greg suppressed a grin when Sherlock raised a single eyebrow in response. It was an expression he had seen on Mycroft's face a thousand times. “I believe he used your methods, Babe.”

“Well, well, well,” he stumbled. “That's not fair!” Mycroft actually pouted and Sherlock laughed.

“Go on, Myc, play something.”

With steady hands, Mycroft brought the violin to his shoulder. He wouldn't be able to play anything too complex, nor would he be able to play for very long. It had been far too many years and he no longer bore the callouses acquired from regular practice. Before he played, however, he gave the violin to Greg, pleasantly surprised that Sherlock immediately didn't move to snatch it out of basically a stranger's hand and kick them out of his room. He took hold of his brother's hands, no callouses at all. “When did you stop playing, Sherlock?”

Sherlock stared up into his big brother's eyes for a moment. “Mummy smashed my old one. That one's from orchestra at school. I'm not allowed to play in my room, but can play in the theatre. A few times a week.”

Greg hissed behind them and Mycroft's hands convulsed on Sherlock's. The elder Holmes was furious. To do that to anyone, let alone his baby brother! Words would be spoken at the first opportunity.

“I'll buy you another one, 'Lock.”

“There's no need, I have that one.”

Mycroft watched him for a moment a frown furrowing his brow, then he let go of one of his hands and pulled him from the room using the other. It was oddly strange, he hadn't done this since Sherlock was a toddler and his younger brother was letting him. Greg followed on and knew where Mycroft was headed.

He took the teen to the study and pushed him in the seat behind the computer. He leant over him to type something in. Stradivarius.

The quick search revealed that no Stradivarius was currently on the market, however, Mycroft was not to be deterred. He compiled a list of current private owners, there were very few indeed. “I'll begin contacting these individuals tomorrow. I should be able to persuade one of them to sell with the proper motivation.”

Sherlock stared at the screen for a moment, then looked up at his brother. His eyes flickered across to Greg and back again. “Why?”

It hurt that his brother had to ask. Rather than respond with words, Mycroft took a risk and wrapped his arms around Sherlock in a brotherly embrace.

The younger Holmes mouthed 'what' over Mycroft's shoulder, Greg just gave him a reassuring smile and a slight nod.

He'd known this kid less than 5 hours and yet he was looking to him for advice. Mycroft had said he was difficult until you knew how to handle him, he just seemed like any other kid that could do practically anything they wanted with their life. And then he realised, there weren't many kids that could do what Sherlock could, or see what he could. That made him special not wrong, what sort of an idiot didn't see that?

Greg's phone began buzzing in his pocket, he glanced at the screen and frowned when Mycroft looked over, not-very-well-controlled tears in his eyes.

“It's my boss, I better take it.”

The Holmes brothers could occasionally hear Greg's voice drifting in from the other room, but neither of them were paying the slightest attention to what he was saying.

Sherlock bit his lip, then asked in a worried voice, “What if she breaks it?”

“You'll keep it here and come play it anytime you want. It's only half a mile from Mummy's, after all.”

Just as Sherlock started to reply, Greg burst back in with a broad smile on his face.

He ran to his boyfriend's little brother, scooped him out of the chair and crushed him in a hug. Sherlock was so caught by surprise that he didn't fight him off.

“Gregory, what is it?”

“A) It's Greg and B) your baby brother has just got me my first promotion.”


End file.
